


Drs Geiszler and Gottlieb Vs. Pseudoscience

by mimorjam



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Also newt cant plan dates its just a fact, During the War, M/M, Mako and Tendo are the best matchmakers in the PPDC, Tendo Choi is the bagel king, abuse of chopsticks (not in a sexy way), and a gossip whore ngl, and some good hash, awkward nerds in love, dating sites are bullshit, gay love but for science, newt's accidental capitalist fashion strikes again, stacker pentecost deserves a long holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:10:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimorjam/pseuds/mimorjam
Summary: Based on the prompt from newtbiszler on Tumblr about our K-sci nerds getting dating profilesbut they're apparently only 2% compatible, what a joke





	1. Chapter 1

It had started in the canteen, as was customary for many of the Shatterdome Staff’s Shenanigans. Newton Geiszler had plonked himself down on a table next to Tendo, just about to excitedly explain his latest scheme to swap all of Hermann’s painfully boring white chalk with some glow-in-the-dark shit, but stopped himself when he realised he’d just barged into a previously private, if a little one-sided, conversation.

“Oh, shit guys, sorry,” he noticed the borderline murderous expression aimed at him from Chuck Hansen, who had just been doing his best to ignore LOCCENT’s resident bow-tie wearer. Newt grinned apologetically at him, lump of mashed potato (balanced on his rad light saber chopsticks) hovering right outside his mouth. 

“Nah, you’re good, Newt,” Tendo slapped him on the shoulder, causing his potato to slop onto the metal table top pitifully. Chuck snorted as the xenobiologist looked dejectedly at the hefty lump of mash, _bummer dude, what a waste._ “You know, this is actually right up your street,”

“Kaiju troubles, Ranger Hansen?” Newt snorted, leaning down to scoop Max up into his lap and feed him a greasy sausage like a baby. Chuck may have been slightly terrifying, reminding Newt every day of the kids who used to kick him for being a nerd all throughout his high school career, but Max was his favourite dumb, ugly dog, so Newt put up with the younger Hansen Jaeger Pilot. 

“Naw, Tendo’s tryina set me up on a dating site,” Chuck shook his head, as if the very idea that a handsome, sexy Jaeger Pilot like him wasn’t already drowning in-

“Sweet!” Newt scooped up his table-mash and stuffed it into his mouth, elbowing Tendo eagerly. “D’ya think you could do me?”

“Pretty sure Alison would have a thing or two to say about that,” Tendo laughed as Newt shoved Max’s slobbering face into his shirt, Chuck scowling like he wanted to growl _‘get the fuck off my dog, freak’_ , but didn’t actually say anything. 

“No! Dude, like make me a thing!” Newt bounced his leg excitedly, this was gonna be so cool, he could get some sweet pictures of his tattoos, maybe mention the coolest _(non-confidential)_ parts of his research and make some friends! Of course, he didn’t want to find an actual partner through this little experiment, but if the perfect ~~grumpy physicist~~ person did happen to swipe him right, then that’d be a bonus. 

“Tell you what,” Chuck tossed his fork down onto his tray. “”If you get this Kaiju loving mother fucker a date, I’ll let you sign me up,”

“Deal,” Tendo’s face lit up with the scheming smile the entire Shatterdome had learned to associate with his _fucking legendary_ monthly gossip sessions. Chuck rolled his eyes, grabbed Max from Newt’s belly-rubbing hands and slouched over towards the pilots’ quarters. Tendo dramatically spun himself round to face Newt, pulling out his tablet. “Shall we?”

Newt tried to answer, but his mouth was full of potato, so he just nodded his head like one of those cute little bobble things some of the chopper pilots had blu tacked onto the passenger seats’ armrests. 

**

“Whaddup, Hermslice,” Newt greeted his lab partner with double finger guns as he skipped through the reinforced door.

“Newton,” Hermann bristled from behind his little desk, glasses precariously balanced on the very end of his nose, as if he’d harnessed the powers to fight the laws of physics for the sake of his shitty vision.

“Brought you a smoothie, dude,” he presented the disgusting looking berry and beetroot drink like it was a fuck off huge diamond, making a show of keeping both his feet just behind the line, bending at the waist, stretching to place the bottle on top of some papers scattered with equations. 

“I didn’t ask for one,” Hermann _ungratefully_ leaned back in his chair, regarding Newt and the drink as if he was solving a particularly perplexing crossword.

“Well next time, you won’t get one, jeez, Hermslice-“

“Please, don’t call me that,” Hermann glared at him over his stupid old man glasses, but reached out to grab the smoothie.

“Whatever you say, Hermslice,” Newt winked and snapped his protective gloves on like a sexy doctor in a porno - _not that Newt watched- never mind._

“A report was delivered for you, while you were gone for a whole hour and a half,” Hermann pointed to a perfectly neat pile of papers stacked on their ‘neutral table’, right on the duct tape line down the middle of the lab. The table was empty apart from the report, so it looked super out of place in their chaotic workspace, but its, like, mere existence had solved at least eighty disputes, so they both made a conscious effort to keep it nice.

“Oh, yeah, Tendo w-“

“What you do in your spare time is up to you, Dr Geiszler,” Hermann scowled down at his paperwork, his ears just a little bit pink.

“Jealous, _Dr Gottlieb?_ ” Newt threw his head around to flutter his lashes at Hermann over his shoulder.

He just started to splutter like a tartan-wearing volcano. Adorable.

“’M kidding, dude,” he laughed, plunging his hands into some lung tissue, trying to ignore an uncomfortable sinking feeling that’d put a downer on his bouncy cool-new-sample-has-arrived mood. Was Hermann so insulted by the suggestion that he didn’t 100% hate spending time with his lab partner? Newt was pretty sure Hermann was actually, like, _his best friend_. “Tendo set me up a dating profile,”

“Did he now?” Herm’s voice sounded weird, well weirder than normal, but Newt was up to his ass in Kaiju, so he didn’t look round.

“Yeah dude,” Newt paused his incision making as a typically Geiszler Genius Idea popped itself into his head. “Hey, Hermslice, we should set one up for you!” 

“Absolutely not, Dr Geiszler! Not only is your presumptuous suggestion wildly unprofessional, but also such juvenile websites are, in my opinion, painfully, utterly pointless,” 

Newt was still hacking away at alien lung tissue, so couldn’t turn round to drink in Hermann’s probably furious expression, which was a bummer, “dunno, maybe you’ll make some friends,”

“ _Making friends_ isn’t typically what people use dating sites for, you know,” he said quietly. 

“Oh, well yea, obviously,” Newt replied, mostly to the lung. “But hey, it’s cool, I won’t judge you for wanting to go on a ‘spectacular shag quest’-“

“Newton!”

Apparently his flawless impression of Herm’s PR accent had been pushing it.

“Sorry, sorry,” he giggled to himself, but tried to reign it in at Hermann’s strangled gurgling sound of annoyance. His controlled silence lasted around 0.7 seconds before he was snorting so loudly he nearly missed his tablet’s pinging tone. “Ooooh! That means I’ve got a match!”

**

After two whole days of disappointing matches, spilt Kaiju innards and an even crabbier than usual Hermann for company, Newt decided to revisit the dating site genie in his natural habitat. 

“Sup heteros!” Newt announced his entrance, spreading his rad tattooed arms wide, a coffee cup in each hand.

“Okay, first of all, how dare you-“ 

“Shit, you’re right Tendo, sorry Mako didn’t see ya there,” he winked at her. Mako smiled back, always appreciative of his special kind of humour. Newt stood at the end of the canteen table, hip jutted out as he grinned at the Kaidanovskies and a few techs who’d foolishly thought that sitting with their boss would guarantee any sort of peaceful professionalism at lunch. “Tendo, dude, buddy, pal, chum-“

“What d’you want?” Tendo sighed theatrically around the bagel half crammed into his mouth. 

“Your dating site thing sucks, dude,” he threw back his head for dramatic effect, but that didn’t mean he missed the way Mako started to giggle behind her hand. “I got like nine matches and one of those was a joke account someone made for _Trespasser_!”

“Why’re you complaining, thought that would have been perfect for you,” Tendo noisily slurped his tea. “Unless, of course, you’re looking for a particular person and you’re just disappointed that they haven’t popped up yet...”

“What?” Newt barked out a squeaky laugh, drawing out the word so far one of the techs actually packed up their tray and left. “T-that’s ridiculous!”

“Perhaps you just need to change your settings,” Mako suggested, ignoring the sneaky sounding Russian whispering from the two Jaeger Pilots across the table. “May I?”

“Knock yourself out, Mako my man, but like, I just did everything this guy told me to,” he nudged his elbow into Tendo’s ridiculous hair because he still had two disposable coffee cups slightly burning his fingers. 

Mako tapped a few keys on her tablet that made a shimmery hologram flicker in front of her, displaying his dating profile, complete with his sexy lab selfie with his newest, most favourite Kaiju specimen. She pressed the ‘edit’ button and effortlessly entered his password, gaining instant access.

“Hang on-“

“It is the same as your Amazon Prime password, is it not?”

“Yea, but like-“ it was **‘Monst3rLov3r09’** and he didn’t really want many people to know that, because, like, not everyone understood irony.

“Oh, found your issue,” Mako zoomed in on something Newt couldn’t read because it was literally backwards. He walked round to stand behind Mako and Tendo and saw _‘show matches with greater than 80% compatibility only’._

“That makes a lotta sense, actually,” Newt nodded and Mako unticked the box. “Well, thanks guys, better get this coffee back to Hermslice or he’ll probably go into some sort of coma-“

“Speaking of – _Hermslice_ ,” Tendo snorted, clearly sounding super pleased with himself. 

Newt peered closer at the hologram and saw an honest to fuck photo of Hermann motherfucking Gottlieb posted underneath a large, red 2%.

_2%?_

Now, this was a lot of information to process at once, but hey, Dr Newton Geiszler wasn’t just a pretty face; he was also a pretty rad scientist, so information was, like, his shit – he ate information for breakfast, dude. 

Thing to process A: Hermann _‘dating sites are painfully, utterly pointless’_ Gottlieb had a secret profile.

Thing to process B: Hermann _‘don’t be vulgar, Newton’_ Gottlieb was probably (definitely) trying to go on a sensational shag quest, just as Newt had predicted earlier, which was why he got so defensive. 

Thing to process C: He and Hermann _‘Hermslice’_ Gottlieb were **only 2% compatible.**

He stared, mouth wider than a Kaiju maw, only half aware of the coffee definitely soaking into his shirt.

“What percentage were you and _Trespasser_?” Tendo was doing the kind of barking laugh that Newt himself had been told off for many, many times.

“Like, seventy, I don’t remember,” he lied, still squinting at that smug looking 2%.

“99.6%, actually,” Mako pulled up a separate tab with the picture of _Trespasser_ next to Newt’s profile, surrounded by rainbow coloured love hearts. He and Herms didn’t even get a single, plain heart; nothing but a small, mocking sad face between their pictures.

Tendo let out a long, low whistle that wasn’t nearly as smooth as I could have been because of his incessant giggling. 

“I gotta- give these to- bye guys,” Newt spluttered as he backed away from the table, two empty coffee cups, crushed and mutilated, held far away from his body to try and prevent any more getting on his filthy shirt. 

Newt nosily stamped on the bin’s pedal, dropping the gross coffee cups in with a very Hermann-esque frown.

“Ah, Newton, I was wondering how on Earth a coffee trip could possibly ta-“

“We’re friends, right?” Newt knew his voice was high pitched and sounded a little bit strangled, but fuck that smug bastard of a 2% - he was sure he’d never hated a number more in his life.

“Well, I’d say so,” Hermann leant against his ladder, looking at him with an odd expression. “Why do you ask?”

“Yanno that site Tendo set me up on?” Newt wished he had something to do with his hands so he didn’t look so awkward, standing on the line that bisected their workspace.

“The one with-“

“ _Trespasser_ , yeah,” he snorted. “Well, I found your super-secret profile,”

“Ah,” Hermann went bright red, like Crimson Typhoon red. Normally Newt would consider even a slight pink tinge to Herm’s cheeks as a victory, so this was an absolute triumph – until of course Hermann ruined the moment by babbling, “I’m terribly sorry if you feel as if the professionalism of our working environment has been somewhat strained by-“

“Relax, Hermslice,” Newt flapped at hand at him, noticing that he still had coffee all over him – his distraction was understandable because Herm looked just about ready to march himself off to HR and hand himself in for inappropriate behaviour, despite not actually doing anything. It was adorable. “I’m not pissed about- you’re like, allowed to do what you want, man,”

“Within reason,”

“Duh,” Newt grinned at his lab partner and almost forgot to be pissed off, almost. 

“If I may,” Hermann twitched slightly. “Why are you-“

“Thedumbwebsitesaidwewereonlytwopercentcompatible!” Newt blurted, voice probably high enough to shatter glass. He shoved his tablet out in front of him, but Hermann didn’t look at it. Okay, maybe he hadn’t actually said full words then, but then again Hermann probably had some kind of superpower because he almost always knew how to decipher Newt’s cat-screech exclaimations.

“That can’t be right,” Hermann stalked over to his computer and pulled up the same screen as the one Newt was staring at. “I-I mean going on the fact that we have shared a laboratory for years and not-“

“Burned the place to the ground,”

“-killed each other, quite. I am sure that must count for something,” Hermann huffed, double tapping on Newt’s profile picture to read the bio he and Tendo had slaved away over.

“Yeah! Like, we’re not just 2% friends, right?” Newt was aware of his pacing, but whatever, sue him, the dude he thought was actually his best friend was apparently only two damn percent compatible with him, which was an actual crisis. “2% of the population has green eyes, NATO guys have to pay 2% of their budget on non-Kaiju-related defence, 2% of my diet can be vaguely called healthy, c’mon man, 2% friends? Really?”

“Newton, I don’t know where this notion of yours regarding the purpose of dating sites being to find friends, bu- good Lord, man,” Hermann stopped what was about to turn into a formidably long and dull lecture about Newt’s misguided social skills, and squinted through his old man glasses at Newt’s bio. “Now it’s obvious why we didn’t match; you clearly didn’t take this seriously,”

“Uh, yeah I did!” Newt folded his arms, showing off his super cool tattoos because it always Hermann go all red with annoyance and grumble about being professional. “Real serious, me,”

“My mistake,” Hermann was smirking, and fuck that was a sight Newt could find himself getting used to – because it meant they’d soon be arguing, not for any other reasons, Newt reassured himself, feeling his skin getting hotter. “But one easily made – in your ‘likes’ section you have simply put ‘Kaiju and ghouls’ with a colon bracket smiley face. And I’m not even going to ask why you wrote ‘magnets’ in the hobbies part,”

“Tendo said I couldn’t mention anything confidential about work, so he just put ‘magnets’ cos yanno the science community will know what I mean,” Newt defended, waggling his eyebrows. It was obvious – no one understands magnets, so they’re a mystery, just like the Kaiju; it really was very clever, even if Newt thought so himself.

“Newton what in the nam-“

“Hey man it’s got nothing to do with my profile! What does yours say anyway? _‘Good day, I’m Dr Gottlieb, I like chalk, numbers and keeping things tidy – my side of my shared laboratory is where fun goes to die because I have a massive stick up my-'_ ,”

“Newton! Why must you insist on al-“

“Alright, dude, sorry, but seriously I don’t think the profiles are an issue, because like, Tendo set it up and he’s an actual god at matchmaking ‘n’ shit,” Newt had wandered over to stand at Hermann’s shoulder, peering at his own profile over Herm’s awful home-cut hair. “Hey, did you know that Chuck agreed that if Tendo can like find me my soulmate or whatever, he’d let Tendo set him up a profile so he can finally get over his massive Mako Mori crush,”

Hermann said something then, but it was too quiet for Newt to properly hear it.

“Didn’t quite catch that, bud,”

“Soulmate?” Hermann repeated, a little louder.

“Well, yeah, but that’s probably not gonna happen because of how clearly bullshit this site’s algorithms are,” Newt leant forward to gently thwack his hand into the screen, earning a little huff from Hermann. “I mean, the quiz at the start didn’t even ask for MBTI personality types, just some bullshit star sign astrology stuff. It’s just disappointing,”

Newt realised what he’d said after a few seconds of really awkward silence, “I mean, disappointing from a scientific point of view, not because we didn’t get a good matc- not that I don’t think you’re my friend! Because I do! Just like, I got a crazy high match with fucking _Trespasser_ – like, of course we- me and you- should get a high percentage cos we’re like, actually friends and basically live together- in the lab, not-not, uhh,” he had a fucking horrible urge to blurt out _‘no homo’_ , which definitely would have made the awkward situation much, much worse.

“I quite agree that their framework is clearly in dire need of some fine-tuning,” Hermann cleared his throat to stop Newt’s babbling. Seriously, why was he making such a big deal out of this? 

“That’s an understatement,” Newt clapped Hermann on the shoulder, only half noticing how his hands paused over the keys on his computer at the sudden touch. “I bet Max could write better algorithms,”

“Algorithms is a strong word for jumped up, amateur pseudoscience,” Hermann turned his head awkwardly to look at Newt, clearly judging his stained, untucked shirt. His raised eyebrow screamed ‘if you got coffee on me or my work I shall disembowel you with your own dissection tools, you disastrous joke of a man’.

“Awh, man,” Newt dramatically raked a hand through his fluffy hair. “Fuckin’ pseudoscientists,”

Hermann hummed in agreement, pushing his desk chair out so he could recline, fingers entwined on his chest, “If there’s one thing I hate-“

“More than when I-”

“Yes, Newton, more than your childish insistence that you use chopsticks to eat sandwiches, is pseudoscientists,” if Newt was honest with himself that was probably the tamest thing he did that royally got on Herm’s nerves; usually the stuffy physicist never passed up an opportunity to mention Newt’s generally unprofessional practice of listening to German pop music while in the decontamination shower, belting out the words as if no one could hear him.

“Well... we could always prove them wrong....” Newt felt his face go red, but thankfully Hermann was too focussed on closing the dating site tabs to notice.

“And how to you suggest we do that?” 

Hermann, with his endless logic and patient faith in numbers, probably thought he meant studying psychology and making a better quiz, or perhaps writing their own, improved algorithms.

Newt’s solution is way more practical. 

“We could... I dunno, see how far 2% gets us,”

“I don’t understand-“

“There’s this super rad sushi restaurant like twenty minutes away from the ‘dome-“

“Are you... asking me out?” Hermann looked either close to spontaneous combustion or actually having a stroke. Newt had guessed it was just a matter of time before all the Geiszler-induced stress finally took him out; it’d be a pity, really. A real loss for the scientific community. 

“Uhhh, well, chill out dude, it’d be, like, only for science, so it-“

“Doesn’t count,”

“Exactly! Yeah man - see, we’re like finishing each other’s...” Newt paused, making a rotating gesture with his hand, leaning towards Hermann expectantly. 

“Sentences?”

“Sentences! 2% compatible my ass!”

Hermann pressed his lips into a thin line, as he always did when he vaguely disapproved of something Newt said, or did, or wore, or listen to, or-

“We’re gonna kick these pseudo-bitches’ asses, dude, just you wait. This is gonna be the sickest date you’ve ever been on, by like, miles,” he hopped up onto his work bench, swinging his legs like a child, watching Hermann sigh dramatically, rise from his chair like a grandpa-jumper-wearing-phoenix and return to his chalk boards with the same kind of focussed determination as he looked at the near impenetrable armour which stood between him (his scalpel) and some sweet, science-y Kaiju innards. 

He was gonna show Hermann a good time, scientifically and prove that stupid dating site that they were way more than 2% compatible. 

“Alright, Dr Gei- Newton,” Hermann paused on his ladder, mid climb to finish the neglected equation he’d left at Newt’s entrance. “I’ll go on a... date with you. For science,”

“Sweet,” Newt grinned and launched himself off the work bench, not realising for like, a whole hour that he’d been walking around with some neutralised Kaiju Blue staining his jeans along with the coffee splattering his shirt. His ass was definitely stained through his jeans. _Again_.

He’d better clean that up, because with the date he was planning, Herms would be so especially wined, dined and expertly wooed, you know, for science, that they might find themselves in a position where a Kaiju Blue stained ass would definitely ruin the mood. But like, _no homo_.


	2. The Date

After a gloriously long singing session in the decontamination shower, Newt found himself standing in front of the mirror, cursing both the resilience of Kaiju Blue stains and his own inability to think things through.

Not only had he very suddenly realised that maybe scientific snobbery wasn’t his main reason for asking Hermann out to his favourite sushi restaurant, but he also realised he wanted this to go so perfectly that Hermslice forgets about pseudoscience and algorithms. Newt looked at himself, towel wrapped like a strapless dress around his middle and teased his hair into some kind of deliberate style.

He was such an _idiot_ – there he was, thinking he was so super smart, inviting Herm on a date for science, when really all he wanted to do was ask him out for _reals. Full homo._

But considering his _Big Gay Epiphany_ had hit an hour too late and neither of them had expressed any explicit _feelings_ towards each other, Newt thought this **strictly for science** date was gonna be the only shot he’d get, so he may as well take it. Fortune favours the brave, ‘n’ all that shit.

Yeah, this was gonna be perfect; a date to remember.

 

****about seventeen stressful minutes later****

 

“Marshall Pentecost!” Newt shouted, barrelling into LOCCENT, dressed in grey training gear he’d found stuffed at the bottom of his wardrobe. A few techs swivelled round to stare at him like he’d grown extra arms or something else equally as rad, while the rest resolutely ignored him.

“Yes, Dr Geiszler?” he looked like he was counting the seconds between each inhale and exhale, which was probably a _Dealing-With-Newt-Technique_ Hermann taught the entire ‘Dome at the weekly seminars Newt _just knew_ he held. Stacker had his arms folded like a sexy stern headmaster or something. 

“Where’s Tendo?” Newt craned his neck to try and see round Pentecost’s impressively wide body, but Stacker must have interpreted his jumpy movements as a red flag of some kind, because he stepped closer and frowned.

“Anything the matter?” he asked, sounding really, really concerned, but he still hadn’t moved out of the way so Newt kinda just bounced a bit and balled his hands into fists because he really needed some help because he had _nothing to wear and the date wasn’t going to be perfect it was going to be a disaster and ohmygod why is their boss so wide he needs to find Tendo!_

“I just need Tendo, alright! It’s an emergency!” Newt knew his voice was screechy and maybe yeah he could have worded that better, because now half of LOCCENT and Marshall Stacker Pentecost himself were staring at the Breach Dilation Interface screen with cold dread clear on their faces.

“It is not possible that a threat could have slipped past our surveillance,” Stacker strode over to enlarge the hologram screen displaying sweet nothing in the empty ass Pacific Ocean. 

“No! Sir, no, dude, it’s not an end of the world emergency, well, kinda, but not _your_ world!” Newt turned to the nearest tech at their desk and grasped their shoulders. “Where is Tendo Choi?” 

The wide-eyed tech shakily pointed over Newt’s shoulder at the lift door, where the bow-tie wearing man was nonchalantly walking into LOCCENT with around nine coffee mugs somehow balanced in his hands and a bagel in his mouth.

Newt let out a little ‘hah!’ of triumph and scampered over to Tendo, ignoring Marshall Pentecost’s agitated confusion and shoving Tendo back into the lift, “dude I need your help, like so bad,”

Tendo just raised an eyebrow as he still had a bagel wedged in his mouth.

“I asked Hermann out on a date-for-science but I have nothing to wear!” Newt shoved his hands into the pockets of his ridiculous sleeveless, grey hoodie which yeah, showed off his sick ink, but was still ridiculous. 

Tendo’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

He shoved some of the coffee mugs into Newt’s chest and used his free hand to rip the bagel out of his mouth, “you have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say those exact words,”

Newt would never admit it out loud, but he was definitely, at least a little bit, terrified of Tendo Choi – especially when he had the kind of evil joyous expression on his face.

Maybe scary, evil, scheming Tendo could save him from the almighty ass beating he’d get from Stacker Pentecost after Newt’s little freak out up in LOCCENT... but if the date actually went well, it would all be worth it, Newt thought as Tendo rambled on about finding the perfect balance between sexy and sophisticated.

 

**

 

“Tendo Choi, Friendo Boi, Tender Joy, buddy,” Newt whined as the door to his room opened and Mako Mori stepped inside holding a small, blue toiletries bag. “D’ya not think this is a bit much?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear such insolence about my hard work,” Tendo surveyed Newt with a satisfied smile, gesturing to his masterpiece for Mako to appreciate. 

“The blue does suit you,” Mako nodded, opening the bag and pulling out a brush and small, flat black rectangle. Newt felt like a Kaiju specimen but instead of floating in formaldehyde he was encased in some classy clothes he’d never ever buy for himself. 

The outfit Tendo had apparently bought years ago for this very occasion, was silky white shirt, tight fitting black trousers, intricately cool black and cobalt blue suit jacket with stylishly subtle swirling patterns and a plain blue tie. He looked like a movie star, which wasn’t his usual rock star goal, but if Tendo thought he’d be able to legitimately win over Hermann (not just for science) then Newt was happy.

“Even if I do look like a capitalist,” Newt grinned at Mako in the mirror, trying his best not to show how nervous he was. He teased a hand through his fluffy hair. “What’ya got there, Mako?”

“Eyeshadow,” she opened the rectangle to reveal the raddest shimmery shades of blue. Newt slowly reached out and tapped one with his finger, marvelling at the glittery powder.

“What,” Tendo snorted. “Never seen eyeshadow before?” 

“Nah man, course I have,” Newt gently swiped some of is across _Yamarashi_ on his arm, careful of Tendo’s jacket’s sleeves. “Just none of my shit is this fancy,”

“Jake bought it for my birthday last year,” Mako smiled, twirling the brush effortlessly between her fingers. “Which is your favourite shade?”

“Uhh, you sure, Mako?” Newt felt bad – his friends had been so nice to him, so helpful, but he was still a clammy mess of nerves. What if Hermann didn’t like eyeshadow? 

“Dr Geiszler,” Mako spun the pallet back to face her, dabbing the brush into a shade tastefully named _‘extra-terrestrial’_ and tapping his glasses, asking him to remove them. “Your date was just as nervous as you are now,”

“He was?” Newt snapped his eyes open in shock because _holy shit what_ , but squeezed them shut again when Mako nearly stabbed him with her brush. “Herms? Nervous?”

“Yes, he came to ask if I had any advice for him,” she explained, probably not realising how the very image of Herms awkwardly trying on outfits and googling dating tips like a total dork was practically short-circuiting Newt’s brain. “But, of course, this is a date _‘for science’_ , isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah, man, but like,” Newt obediently kept his head as still as possible, which was _nothing short of impossible_ with all the pre-date jitters he was getting. “Gotta make an effort for science too, yanno?”

“Sure,” Tendo drawled – it sounded like he had some bagel in his mouth. Classic. 

“All done,” Mako stepped back and snapped the palette closed. Newt slipped his glasses back on and inspected her handiwork. 

_Fuck_ , he looked _so cool!_ Mako was officially his second favourite person in the universe. 

He spun round, arms spread wide, facing his two best friends in the _whole world_ , “how do I look?”

“Like a million dollars, Newt my man,” Tendo slapped him on the shoulder.

“You look ready to prove a dating algorithm wrong,” Mako giggled, somehow managing to look both innocent and slyer than Tendo at once. 

“Go get your Hermslice, buddy,” Tendo steered Newt towards the door, but stopped when his comm.link started to beep obnoxiously. 

“Aw shit!” Newt groaned, tapping the screen and reading the automated message displayed on a little hologram placard projected from his wrist. “Not now!”

“What is it?” Mako asked, peering over his shoulder.

“I set up this thing to let me know if the sequencing process was disturbed, right, and the fucking centrifuge is fucked, man!” Newt deflated, noticing the time in the corner of his projection. “I’m gonna be late to meet Herm, fuck, this is already a disaster!”

“No, no,” Tendo gripped his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length like some kind of sports coach. “You go sort your thing, we’ll tell Hermann to meet you down in town, okay?”

“It won’t be too long, it’s not that complicated,” Newt nodded, taking deep breaths.

“Good man, right, go,” Tendo shoved him out the door. “And calm down, it’s all gonna be fine,”

Newt shouted one last thank you over his shoulder before storming off to deal with his _fucking homophobic centrifuge_ – damn cock-blocking bastard machine, who did it think it was, ruining his date-for-science with the one and only Hermann Gottlieb? 

 

**

 

He’s not proud of it, but Newt nearly backs out at least like, nine times. After gently coaxing his centrifuge (turning it off and on again, then beating it with a broom) he’d even typed up a fairly mediocre excuse text – but deleted it, thinking how much of a massive dick move that would be, especially if Herms was already down in town. Waiting for him...

After mentally getting his shit together, Newt managed to get his ass to town, praying to the science gods that the humidity wouldn’t turn his hair into a little fluffy cloud as it often did. He tried his best to stop side-eyeing his reflection in the shop windows as he walked briskly to where someone who was unmistakably Hermann was waiting, but he was just too damn nervous. 

“Hermann!” he called, really fucking annoyed at how his voice caught in his throat – _get it together, Geiszler!_

“Ah, Newton, I wasn’t sure exactly where to meet you, but when I asked, Miss Mori was kind enough to provide co-ordinates,” Hermann looked as if he were about to offer his hand for Newt to shake, but instead just twitched awkwardly as usual. It was a little bit relaxing, knowing the nerves were mutual – also, of course Hermann would _ask for co-ordinates for a date._

“Well, that was, uh, nice of her,” Newt rocked onto the balls of his feet, unable to look away from his just-for-science-date, because _holy shit_ was that a _leather jacket?_ Hermann ‘tartan sweaters are fashionable all year round’ Gottlieb was standing in front of him, cheeks a little pink, wearing an actual, real life leather jacket (a jacket, _made out of leather_ , like _badasses_ wear) and Newt’s brain really didn’t know how to react to that. He looked good. Newt was so, so fucked.

“Yes, quite,” Hermann cleared his throat. He was either checking out Newt’s outfit or avoiding eye contact – Newt knew which option he preferred, but in reality Herms was probably dying of awkwardness. “So, where is this sushi restaurant you were telling me about?”

“Oh yeah!” Newt brightened up, bouncing a little bit. “It is so good, man, you don’t even know; you aren’t ready for such _flavour_!” 

“Um, Newton?” Hermann’s voice sounded weird, like earlier when he said ‘soulmates’ all quietly and shit, so Newt stopped what was going to turn into an impressively comprehensive breakdown of Yoshiharu Kakinuma’s menu. “I’ll warn you now, I’m not the most- as this is- Newton, I-“

“Hey, Herms, relax dude,” Newt took pity on his (adorable) floundering and boldly steered him toward the restaurant by gently nudging their shoulders together. “We just gotta follow the date rules, then it’ll all be fine, simple,”

“Rules?”

“Yeah, man, like compliments, uhhh, no religion/politics, the usual shit,” Newt was gesturing like he was translating his words into some made up sign-language, but that was nothing new. Maybe the three cans of redbull and packet of mini-eggs on the metro had been a mistake – he just had _so much energy, man_. Hermann made a small humming noise, like he was deeply considering Newt’s words.

“I like your nail varnish,” he said eventually, his voice doing the soft, quiet thing that should not have been the cutest thing ever, but was. Definitely was.

“Aw, thanks dude! Did ‘em myself,” Newt preened, hoping that the neon lights all around them would disguise his painfully obvious blush as he held up both his hands to show Herm. “The shade is called _Kaiju Blue_ , so of course I bought, like, so much of it,”

“Well, they’re very nice,” Hermann looked very uncomfortable, but, like, he always did – Hermann Gottlieb had a unique ability to look awkward in any situation, it was astounding. One day Newt would crack the code and figure out his secret, but he already had a sneaking feeling that his clothes and hair were major contributing factors. 

“Hey, I can do yours for you when we get back,” Newt grinned, but then realised what he’d said – _play it cool, Geiszler_. “I mean, only if you want to, we don’t have to, of course we don’t, like why would I like I dunno, force-“

“Newton,” 

“Yup?”

 

“I think your restaurant is closed,” Hermann pointed at the door with his cane. Sure enough, written in, like, eight different languages was the word _‘closed’_ pinned smugly to the door. Great.

_‘Closed’_ was now Newt’s least favourite word and **2%** was his least favourite number. Or value, or whatever.

“Awh fuck,” Newt’s shoulders sagged as he lolled his head backwards to stare up at the neon-lit sky. “Sorry, dude,” it looked like the entire universe was in league with his homophobic centrifuge in their quest to ruin Newt’s date – wonderful. 

“Maybe it would have been wise to perhaps have at least checked the opening times,” Hermann rolled his eyes. Great! Now his date (stupidly hot, annoyingly right date) was getting stroppy.

“Yeah well sue me for thinking that a fucking restaurant would be open on a fucking Friday night-“ Newt knew he was yelling, probably attracting all sorts of attention from amused passers-by, but ignored all of them.

“I am simply stating that it was your pla-“

“Oh really? It didn’t sound like _simply sta-_ “ Newt caught himself, squeezed his eyes closed and counted to ten. “Nope, no we are not doing this, not on date night,”

“Perhaps the website was right,” Hermann bristled.

Newt sucked in a huge breath in the most theatrical gasp ever – honestly, he could have easily chosen a wildly different career and gone into performing. “I cannot believe Dr Hermann Gottlieb is agreeing with, and I quote, _‘jumped up, amateur pseudoscience’_!”

Hermann narrowed his eyes, fully activating his mind-blowing bitch mode, before he stopped himself, clearly thinking hard – Newt could imagine the chalky gears turning in his head.

“Well then, Newton,” he straightened his posture and fixed Newt with an unfairly sexy challenging look. “What do you suggest?”

“It’s a Friday night, Hermslice,” Newt beamed, flame of stupid hope relit. “There’s gotta be a bar around here somewhere,” 

Hermann nodded, back to looking uncomfortable and awkward and tapped his cane against the ground. 

“See! We can behave ourselves!” Newt spotted a neon palm tree that looked pretty sick so made a beeline toward a cocktail bar across the road. 

“Even if it is out of spite,” Hermann was smiling, which was nice, but it looked a little bit too bitter for Newt’s liking.

“Hey, this is for science, dude,” Newt regretted saying that, because _fuck_ science, he wanted to take this awful, grumpy man out for _real_. 

“Of course,” Herms looked at the floor when Newt swept his arm out and held the door like a proper gentleman, cos like, that’s what Herm liked, right? Every British dude liked manners and shit, right?

 

**

 

In hindsight, a cocktail bar probably wasn’t the best venue to have an awkward first date with your best friend/colleague, because within the first five minutes of sitting at the glittery table, Newt had consumed far too many fruity drinks named things like ‘Category III’ and ‘Drifter’ – he was feeling warm and kinda gooey.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, but he found himself completely unable to relax – mainly due to Herm and his apparent total inability to look him in the fucking eyes. They’d tried small talk, but it wasn’t like they were _getting to know each other_ or anything – they’d shared a lab for fucking ages, man, they practically knew more about each other than they did about themselves. 

They tried to talk about work, but both quickly changed the subject because vague work-talk led to the inevitable _‘Biology is barely a pure science, Newton’_ shit Herm always came out with and that was _not sexy_ in the slightest. Yeah, he may have recently realised his huge, fuck off crush on Hermann Gottlieb, but that didn’t excuse his insults toward biology, the best field of research ever.

He didn’t know what to do. He and Herm were both sat across from each other, pulling restlessly at their clearly borrowed outfits.

Tendo had said to ‘just fucking listen to him, Newt, or you’ll both start screaming at each other’ – but that was fucking useless because neither of them were talking. Newt downed another Kaiju inspired drink and considered the situation.

The website was right, they just weren’t gonna work together. Newt was gonna die alone with only Kaiju samples and unfinished paperwork for company, he could just feel it. Or maybe he’d find a wife, get a job in the corporate sector and live up to the vibes his new capitalist jacket was broadcasting. 

He snorted at the thought, which turned into giggles when he combined both possible futures together – imagine lonely old capitalist Newt with only a Kaiju specimen for company, how hilariously ludicrous.

“I would never have labelled you a lightweight, Newton, but here we are,” Hermann sounded amused.

“Dude, remember Christmas when I got so fucking drunk you had to physically stop me from licking my latest Kaiju thingy?” Newt grinned at the really hazy memory of him waking up with Herm’s stupid, massive parka coat zipped up like a straightjacket. 

“Yes, Newton, I do remember that,” he snapped, but his face didn’t look angry. “The hangover served you right for stealing Aleksis Kaidanovsky’s drink, you damned fool,”

“It was an accident!” Newt barked, leaning closer to Herm. 

“Blue suits you,” Hermann commented lightly, still refusing to meet his eye, hilariously dainty hands sliding around the rim of his wine glass.

Newt was about to probably either burst into actual flames right there and then, or ascend into the heavens because holy _fuck_ was that the _cutest shit he’d ever seen._ Hermie with a sexy, badass jacket, in a cocktail bar, looking all blushed and awkward and totally out of place – what a sight.

Unfortunately, Newt’s super smooth response (okay, it was going to be an awkward splutter of _‘heyIactuallyreallylikeyoud’youwannabescienceboyfriends_ ’) was rudely interrupted by a very loud group of men dressed in neon green pouring into the small bar, chanting like football fans. Hermann’s previously cute little expression darkened into one of distaste – why did everything keep going fucking wrong? Newt wanted to take a picture of his stupid adorable face and frame it to show everyone that Hermann Gottlieb actually had an expression that wasn’t _‘I am three seconds away from both murder and a stroke and it is all Newton Geiszler’s fault’_ but those loud fuckers had chased it away with their _fucking noise_.

Newt hated bachelor parties with an intense, burning passion – if he ever got married he was going to order some expensive pizza and host the best movie night the Shatterdome had ever seen. He could see it now, all his friends would bring pillows and snacks and they’d all watch Jurassic Park, projected massive on the side of the hangar wall. It would be amazing. It would not get in the way of anyone’s slightly improving disastrous first date – that was the sign of a good bachelor party.

“Do you wanna...” Newt made a gesture towards the door and Hermann eagerly rose from his seat.

“God yes,” he sounded relieved, so hopefully that was a good sign. He followed Newt out of the bar scrunching his free hand into his own shirt – a nervous habit Newt had noticed from his lab partner years ago.

“Hey, dude, I’m sorry this date has been super shit,” Newt went to shove his hands in his pockets, but the stupid capitalist blazer didn’t have any – what a fucking joke, where were the money grabbing wankers meant to shove the poor’s dollar bills if not in their fancy jacket? _Where were the money pockets, Tendo?_ Where were they in his time of _need_?

“So far, it has not been... the best,” Hermann settled on, drawing Newt out of his capitalist jacket related crisis. Wait. That was it! It was all the jacket’s fault.

“Hang on,” Newt grinned, shedding the fancy blazer eagerly. 

“I’m not quite sure what you think you’re doing-“ there he went again, spluttering like a volcano.

“Take off the badass jacket,” Newt instructed a little bossily.

“Newton I-“

“Herms, just do it, okay?” Newt held his capitalist blazer out to him and Hermann seemed to understand his plan. 

Once they’d swapped jackets, it was like some kind of string had been cut, releasing all the pent up tension in both of their bodies. But that wasn’t the only perk.

Hermann looked absolutely criminally hot in the capitalist jacket. Like, they needed to get off the streets because the hotness-police would cart him off to prison, forever preventing Newt from sexily ripping it off his body and doing all kinds of unspeakable things- _jesus, dude, calm it down._

Herm went pink in the cheeks, “that’s better,” he smiled, genuinely this time.

“It suits you better than me, dude,” Newt grinned back, face definitely redder than he’d like. How awkward would it be if Herms found out how seriously he was taking this date, even though it was only really for science... the answer is _super awkward_ ; like, throw yourself into the Breach awkward. 

Hermann looked down at his new outfit and chuckled, gently, as if he were laughing in that same, quiet voice that Newt couldn’t get enough of. “And that suits _you_ very nicely,” 

“Duh, I’m a rockstar!” Newt bounced a little, before reaching up to brush some glitter he’d picked up from the bar off Hermann’s shoulder. “Hey, dude, I cracked the code,”

“Pardon?” Hermann went very still, eyes tracking Newt’s hand as it lingered maybe a little too long on his shoulder. 

“Yanno, the code to beating those 2% asshats,” Newt quickly pulled his _traitorous_ hand away, _play it **cool** , Geiszler_. “We were doing it all wrong! We have to prove that we are more than 2% friends-“

“Newton how many times-“

“Or compatible, that works too – anyway, we have to prove that we are, right? Us. Me and you! Right?”

Hermann raised an eyebrow, leaning on his cane, bathed in the super rad neon lights. Newt wished his glasses were like, really high-tech with camera abilities or something because that was an image he wanted to put up next to the hypothetical cute-shy-Hermann-in-the-bar picture. 

“Us, not anyone else,” 

“Your point, Newton?”

“So we have to be ourselves, like, yanno, authentically,” he wiggled his fingers like a cool magician at the last word, before dropping his hands awkwardly to his sides. “You know, for science...”

Hermann didn’t reply, but had a weird, faraway look on his face, like he was reminiscing about a time when he had a shred of respect for one Newton Geiszler before he ruined it all with his cringe worthy actions.

It was all well and good, spouting some poetic bullshit to try and salvage the disaster of a date, but it didn’t change the fact that both of them were awkwardly standing around in the middle of town with nowhere to go. Newt was officially the worst date planner ever. They’d have to get the metro back to the ‘Dome and face Mako and Tendo’s eager questioning about _how did it go? Did you make out under the neon lights? Did he like the eyeshadow?_ Then they’d say an awkward good night, go to their respective rooms, go to sleep, get up in the morning and carry on in the lab as usual, any potential sexy happiness gone forever. 

Just as Newt was about to suggest they head back, and maybe apologise again for such a shitty date, he was hit with a brainwave that nearly knocked the wind out of him. It was a _brain-tsunami_.

“I’m a genius!” Newt squealed and grabbed Hermann’s hand in a moment of euphoric madness. 

“Newton, what on Earth-“

“C’mon, Hermslice, the night isn’t over yet!” Newt grinned like a lunatic and all but dragged his flustered date over towards an open-all-hours supermarket. His plan was flawless – there was no way Hermann wouldn’t _love_ it! 

“Where are we going?”

“Just you wait, Hermie,” Newt squeezed his hand. “This is so _us_ it’s gonna shove that 2% right up the asses of all non-belivers!”

“I think you’ve finally lost your mind,” Hermann sighed, but didn’t let go of Newt’s hand, so that was a fucking win and a half.

“Oh dude, almost definitely.”

 

**

 

One thing that never failed to amaze Newt about the Shatterdome roof was how it was the most welcoming roof ever, like sometimes it was cold, sure, but comfortably so. The stars were all clear and twinkly ‘n’ shit and the views were incredible; huge fuck off green mountains behind them, miles and miles of clear, open ocean the other way. It was beautiful. 

Newt and Hermann sat on the highest point of the ‘Dome, where Stacker usually snuck up to have a cheeky secret joint with Herc Hansen, legs dangling over the edge, a tray balanced between them.

From the supermarket, Newt had scooped up as many ingredients as possible for the best banquet of little sandwiches Hermann would ever have, in his life; this was going to be his sandwich peak. 

Newt popped one of the tiny square sandwiches into his mouth using his lightsabre chopsticks, laughing at Hermann’s clear exasperation. “D’you like’em?”

“They’re very nice, yes,” Herms chuckled, tying up the bread bag to keep it fresh. “Thank you, Newton,”

“Awh, no sweat, Hermslice,” he chewed another sandwich nosily. “It’s the least I could do after the whole shitty town date thing,”

“Isn’t this part of the same date?” Hermann moved the tray from in between them so he could lean back on his palms. 

“Well, yeah, but it was pretty shit, wasn’t it,” Newt tried to seem nonchalant, but he had a feeling it really didn’t work.

“I think you’ve redeemed it quite nicely,” Hermann’s eyes stayed fixed on the view of the strangely calm ocean, tips of his ears very, very red.

“I dunno, man, I could still very easily fuck it up,” Newt scratched the back of his neck, feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden.

“And how do you know it would be you who’d, ahem, fuck it up?” Hermann turned to look at him then, with a face full of absolute open softness. Newt was pretty sure he’d just melted a little bit inside.

“Cos I always fuck it up,” he aimed for causal banter, laughing it off, but Hermann fully faced him, suddenly looking quite serious and just a little bit concerned.

“Why do you think that?”

“Nawh never mind, dude, that’s way too deep for me right now,” he chuckled, looking down at his sparkly blue nails, feeling what was probably a super impressive blush climb up from his tattoos to his hairline. “Cos, yanno, this is only for science, right?”

“Is it?” Hermann asked, leaning into his averted line of vision, smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. “Because I’ve had rather a nice time,”

“Yeah, me too,” Newt smiled back, feeling his breath go all fluttery. _Holy shit_.

“I think we have well and truly put that 2% to shame, don’t you?”

“For fucking sure, dude,” Newt beamed and lowered himself down so he was almost lying on the floor, staring up at the clear, starry sky above them, propped up on his forearms. Hermann copied his position, inching closer so their sides were pressed against each other.

They stayed like that, talking, discussing, mildly-debating and just enjoying each other’s company. It was different up there, on the roof, out of their stifling lab. Perhaps that’s all they needed; a change of setting and suddenly 2% became 100% - suck on that, _Trespasser._

Their conversations turned from philosophical, to gossiping, to downright weird:

“No, no hear me out, Hermslice, let me make my point,”

“You’re unbelievable,” Hermann rolled his eyes, but it was definitely fond this time.

“A dude who’s a bottom can be the dominant one,” Newt began as if he were delivering a speech to the UN – maybe he should, this particular argument had taken a lot of thought on his part, after all.

“Newton-“

“Just cos a guy likes to be filled-“

“ _Newton_!”

“ _Hermann_!” Newt parroted back. “Have an open mind dude! Just cos he likes to be filled, doesn’t mean he’s a sub! He might like to be filled with, like, power, or-or dominance!”

“You ridiculous, _ridiculous_ man,” Hermann laughed, head thrown back to stare at the stars they’d been lazily naming only moments before the _legendary bottom-dom discussion_ began.

“You love me, though,” Newt tilting his head to face Herm, smile gently slipping when his stupid, stupid brain caught up with his equally as fucking stupid mouth.

“Maybe I do...” Hermann said in that soft, barely there voice, dragging his eyes from the stars. He leant in and every brain cell in Newt’s head felt like they were exploding. _Holy shit!_ He was totally about to get kissed by the one and only Hermann Gottlieb on the roof of the Hong Kong Shatterdome under the stars after their first ever date.

But Hermann leaned past Newt’s ready and waiting lips to whisper in his ear, _really fucking close_ , “but only 2%,”

“Think you’re funny, huh?” Newt whispered, face split by the biggest smile he’d ever, ever smiled.

Hermann hummed, nose gently bumping into Newt’s face. They both let out small, breathy laughs before Newt reached up and threaded his hands into Herm’s hair, angling their faces for the most perfect first kiss anyone could have ever dreamed of.

They rested their foreheads together, both smiling like love-sick idiots ( _which was fair a enough description_ ).

“So, Dr Gottlieb,” Newt kissed him again. “Your professional opinion if you please,” and again. “How was that for 2%?”

“Could be better,” Hermann said after comically considering it with a half-serious parody of his usual thinking face, one Newt was very familiar with.

“Oh yeah?” Newt laughed, hands sliding down to grip the lapels of the capitalist jacket. “How the fuck could this be better?”

Hermann pulled him into another kiss by his hair and sure as hell showed him exactly how much better it could be.

 

_**2%? 2% Newt’s ass.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus:  
> Newt: I gotta- give these to- bye guys *leaves in a gay way*  
> Mako: do you think it worked?  
> Tendo: without a doubt, my young apprentice
> 
> **
> 
> Come and find me on tumblr for more Pacrim nonsense - @hermann-thotlieb


End file.
